Chapter Thirty-One
W e’ve been sitting in this room for way too long.
It’s actually gorgeous. A den just off the atrium, opposite a robust library. All large, rustic leather furniture, a lit fireplace keeping us warm and the room illuminated. I guess the power’s still out, but that’s really the least of our problems right now.
Just as we were arriving back at the mansion, the gunfire started. And it hasn’t stopped. Not continuous or anything, but every so often, a loud pop causes us to jump in our comfy seats.
Each shot bringing with it a question…
Which of my friends are dead?
That’s not to say I consider everyone in that prison a friend . Some of them are assholes. Most are just faces I’ve grown accustomed to seeing day in and day out. But a few of them I’d rather not see killed… Mainly, Luthor and Ren.
I can’t get it out of my head… The last words we said to each other.
Well, the last words I said to them, since I was the one throwing all of the hurtful accusations their way.
At the time, I meant every word of it. But now that things have taken this serious, even deadly, turn, I can’t help feeling like none of it was really that big of a deal.
I guess the threat of losing people you care about will do that to you. It makes you forget the pain, the stubbornness, the jealousy… The hostility that seemed so important at the time now just seems petty and inconsequential.
I know I was hurt when I was saying it, but I can’t find any of that now. It’s all just… fear. Worry. Regret.
If those are the last words I ever speak to them… I’ll never forgive myself.
And it’s not just Luthor and Ren, either.
The Ivory’s guys have been storming around the mansion since we got here, walkies blaring. Based on the bits and pieces of conversations I’ve overheard, the potential of escaping prisoners isn’t their primary concern.
That would be Velle.
It’s no secret that tensions have been high since the Warden brought in his new team of guards to take over.
I’m not sure what I expected to happen, but over the last few weeks, it’s become painfully clear that the plan was never to simply fire Velle and his men— give ‘em the old pink slip and send them on their merry way. I refused to think about it until right now, but that definitely doesn’t seem like The Ivory’s style.
It’s unclear what his plan was , but it probably wouldn’t have been good for the former head asshole in charge and his pack of morally bankrupt guard dogs.
And after what Joy told me about them being kicked out of the mansion, it seems like this storm was pretty perfect in that it gave Velle an opportunity to strike.
If we’re being honest, going quietly doesn’t seem like John Chevelle’s style either.
Now, they’re in the prison, holed up somewhere the Warden doesn’t want them, making them a much bigger problem than a few escaped convicts who haven’t seen daylight in years.
The unknown is weighing on me. What could be happening at any given moment to people I’ve been existing alongside in mutual misery for so long. Attempting to understand why I’m here, and they’re not.
Is it just because I’m boning one of The Ivory’s spies? Is that really what it comes down to?
I’m safe and toasty warm because of my relationship with Trevel’s dick?
A familiar voice booms from somewhere up the hall, and I flinch.
Or maybe the Warden wants me dead too, and was just waiting to for me to let my guard down…
Trevel’s hand slides onto my knee, pausing its rapid bouncing. “Relax.”
“ Okay ,” I scoff, shaking my head. “This is fucked … you know that?? What’s going on out there? How long is he going to keep us sitting around with our dicks in our hands, and not the slightest clue —”
The clack of dress shoes on a marble floor brings with it an angry voice that instantly cuts off my complaining. Kent stands fast, pistol still in hand as he nods at us. I guess that means he wants us to stand up too, because Trevel and Dr. Love both get on their feet.
I’m not as familiar with this shit as they are, apparently… All rise for the dishonorable judge, jury, and executioner , Manuel fucking Blanco.
“I don’t give a fuck what it costs, you get them here now .
” The Ivory is barking at someone as he rounds the corner.
Once he’s in sight, it’s clear that he’s talking on the phone, though there is a guy I’ve never seen before following after him.
“ Escuchame now means fucking yesterday . Do it, and don’t bother me with nonsense.
I want that boat bustling , comprende ? Figure it out. ”
He ends the call, on what looks like a satellite phone.
Interesting… Is cell service out? Then he immediately pulls a walkie-talkie off of his belt, pacing as he holds it up to his face.
“Carlito? Esta bien ?” He goes quiet while someone responds in muffled Spanish I can’t make out.
“You barricaded the doors? Good… Good. Whatever you do, don’t let them out of your sight.
Especially Carson. I mean it, soldado . Guns on them at all times, whether they’re eating, sleeping, taking a piss…
They don’t move an inch without you there, si ?
Okay, I’ll be in touch when the reinforcements arrive. ”
The person on the other end is saying ten-four as The Ivory secures the walkie, stalking over to us. I’m instantly so tense, it’s like my muscles are seizing.
I haven’t seen Manuel Blanco in a while.
He comes and goes, that’s for sure. But ever since Dash escaped and the prison went on lockdown, he’s been much more elusive.
I can’t say I’ve been necessarily bummed about it…
Being that every time he’s near me I feel like nothing more than a pawn in his human chess match.
Standing here now, in his home, mere feet from him with a war on the brink of breaking outside these walls, has me recoiling even more than usual in his presence.
I don’t belong here, and he knows that.
The Ivory scans our faces; Trevel and me first, then Dr. Love. His gaze narrows at the doctor, who, by all accounts, is standing his ground. Which is crazy since, from what I can tell, he has zero fucking ground to stand on right now. He’s practically six feet under.
He must know something I don’t. In fact, I’m sure there’s a lot about their relationship I don’t understand. Just like there’s a lot about The Ivory’s relationship with Trevel I don’t understand…
The whole thing is making me feel like even more of an intruder here.
He’s gonna fucking kill me. I’m sure of it.
The Warden shifts, dark eyes settling on Trevel. “I don’t have time to get into what was happening before the tower fell, but let’s just say I’m glad you were thinking on your feet.”
I witness the mound of Trevel’s throat bob before he says, “I told you it was the right move.”
The Warden exhales, rubbing his eyes. I have to note that he looks much more disheveled than usual, his expensive dress shirt all rumpled and unbuttoned at the collar, snow white hair strewn about. It looks like he has blood and soot on his clothes, cuts and scrapes on his visible skin.
Jesus… Was he inside the prison?? When the tower fell??
“And you,” he pins me with his charcoal irises, and I straighten. “You’re here now, hm? Meaning you dodged a bullet… Literally.”
My lips part, but I have no mother-loving idea how I would ever respond to that statement.
“I’m happy to allow you and Trevel to stay, so long as everyone’s clear on what that means.” He cocks his head. We’re just staring at him until he blinks. “There will be no leaving this side. You know how I feel about loyalty…” His eyes slide to Dr. Love, and he growls, “ Es todo .”
The room is deathly quiet. Just the crackling of the fire and the shouting of men off in the distance.
“Yari,” The Ivory says to the young man who came in with him. “Be a lamb and fetch me Johansson, please.”
“Yes, sir.” The guy nods and scurries off.
The Warden moves in closer to Trevel and me, his eyes bouncing between us. “I must say, I’m pleased that you’re here… With Trevel. With us . They made a mistake leaving you behind, but it’s their loss, honestly. I don’t expect they’ll get far…”
My forehead lines. “What… Who?? Who are you… talking about?”
His lips twitch. “Our very own Lex Luthor and his firestarter, Warren Xavier. They managed to slip out amidst all the chaos.” He pauses while I gawk at him. “They’re gone , Byron. They left. Stole a goddamn rowboat and set sail… Right into the mouth of a deadly storm.”
He puffs a condescending chuckle, peeking at Kent, who shakes his head.
What the… fuck?
Conflicting emotions are flash flooding my system. I’m relieved, momentarily, at hearing that my friends haven’t been killed. But it’s swallowed up quickly by the reality of the situation.
They … left?
Luthor and Ren are… gone?
Like, gone gone??
I’m having a hard time processing this. It must be clear from my bugging eyes and mouth slack in stunned silence, because the Warden reaches forward, grasping my chin between his fingers. I feel Trevel stiffen at my side.
“I wouldn’t worry about it, my fighter. You’re so much more important here and now than you ever were by their side, tagging along like a permanent third wheel. They never appreciated you. Not like I do. They’ll never want you… Not like he does.” He nods in Trevel’s direction.
My eyes shift to Trevel. The look on his face is serious, violet eyes searching mine for something. It seems like the same thing I’m searching for in his, which is confusing me down to my bones.
What are we? What is this??
The Ivory releases me as the young guy returns, followed closely by an older man with a vaguely familiar face, carrying a black briefcase.
Oh, crap… That’s one of the doctors. From the East.
A chill zips up my spine.